


blood spills, off of me and onto you

by velvetvelour



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I literally have no idea what to tag, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, and goth and i love him idk, and slowly growing to enjoy the company ... probably like that, but again its never rlly enemies nsdjufihdf, eventually, gender neutral reader, i think it will mostly just be cute stuff and sad stuff, ish, it's almost an oh my god they were roommates situation but without really a room to be shared..., like ever on anythingdsjfhsdkfd, like learning how 2 live with someone you have a bad first impression of, v is awkward and weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetvelour/pseuds/velvetvelour
Summary: Dante, Lady, and Trish, the closest friends you've ever known, are gone. You left them all behind, right in the hands of that vile, monstrous devil. You had to. But you aren't alone, no, of course you don't have such luck. You're with him. "V." That wretched man who walked you straight to its doorstep.





	blood spills, off of me and onto you

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like, a little after the game came out when i was super excited about it but never did anything with it so i decided to edit it and post it since ive been in my feelings about vergil again lately. hopefully i'll actually like .... think of something to write after this. god i really say that every time i post dont i

From the moment you saw him, there was something different about him.

Of course, you’d thought the same when you met Dante, and Trish, and even Lady, but in the case of V, his “different” was much more obvious. It goes without saying that a man covered head to toe in tattoos, dressed entirely in leather and carrying a cane that looked to be crafted more for fashion than necessity would raise some questions, but even looking past all that, something about the lilt to his voice and the look in his eyes made you feel like there was something churning in his head. You could only hope that it wasn’t something bad.

It was clear that your colleagues felt the same about him, so you couldn’t help but be suspicious that Dante had taken the job so quickly and without hesitation, and even gone so far as to round up the rest of you for it. If what V said was true, then he was going to need your help, but even still, there was an unusual seriousness showing itself under Dante’s easygoing facade that made you wonder what exactly V had told him. Was he really so trustworthy, so believable? This man who wouldn’t even give his real name? Every word that left his mouth strengthened your lack of faith in him, and when he turned his back on you at the mouth of the Qliphoth, the feeling of utter distrust and suspicion was irrevocable.

That damned tree. You’d never known a feeling such as what you felt in front of that massive devil, lying injured on the rough and blood-stained ground with your comrades spread out around you; the complete and utter dread and fear you felt when you realized that Dante may not be strong enough this time, that it was not out of the realm of possibility for this demonic tree to be your final resting place, and the consequences that would entail for the world at large. When you saw Nero bursting in, headstrong and arrogant as ever, you nearly shrieked at him to just leave before he met his end as well. That’s why, when you found the strength to haul yourself to your feet, stumbling away with tears in your eyes at Dante’s sacrificial distraction and barely managing to escape along with Nero and V, and when Nero, in his rage, stomped away amidst the chaos and you found yourself alone with the man who put you all in this hopeless situation, you wanted to hit him. To kill him, even. He must’ve known how powerful this demon was, that you’d never stand a chance. He must be some sort of agent of that thing, tasked to send you all to his front door, manipulating you to foolishly march to your own deaths. You glared at him with utter hatred in your eyes as you stood together on the blood-stained street, the demons tied to his body working to destroy the Qliphoth roots around you as pedestrians ran in screaming terror, and the look on his white-framed face was dark, eyes staring wearily at the growing tree before you.

“We must leave,” he states eventually, darkness returning to his hair and skin as his creatures disappeared.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit at him, turning and leaving and not caring one bit if he stays there and dies like so many of those around you.

The rhythmic clink of his cane against the asphalt follows you as you head to the only place you can think to go.

You shouldn’t have let him follow you, should’ve slammed the door in his face, but you didn’t. The least you can do is try to force some answers out of him; if you can even stand to look at him again in the first place. 

You sit yourself in Dante’s chair. His scent, only vaguely sickening, still permeates from it strongly, and it makes your throat clench. V remains standing, leaning on his cane, staring at the hardwood with a dark and troubled expression. It pisses you off.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time,” you state in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “What the fuck _is_ that thing?”

V swallows.

“Urizen, the demon king. He--”

“Cut the shit,” you hiss out in a dangerously slow voice. “I’ve been working in this demon business for years and I’ve never once heard the name Urizen anywhere. I’m sure Trish and Dante hadn’t either. _What_ is he.”

V finally looks at you, but your returning glare makes his gaze shift down to the desk in front of you.

“He is an exceptionally powerful demon that must be stopped at all costs. I’ve already told you everything that I can.”

“Everything that you know?!” you yell suddenly, standing up so quickly that the chair spins behind you, “Or everything that you _want_ to say?”

He does not flinch at your volume, but glances back at you hopelessly.

“I’m afraid I’ve already told you all that I can.”

You curse and slam your hands on the desk before you, bowing your head. You want to hurt him, to take the pain and grief and confusion that you feel out on him, but you know it won’t help either of you, nor will it bring your friends back. If only he had never come here.

When you wake up the next morning, you are numb. You should be angry, fired up, determined to get back out there and find a way to finish the job, but you simply cannot. Your entire body aches from the beating Urizen doled out, and you’re hesitant to leave the blankets full of the smell of the half-demon you had come to see nearly as family. And now, he is gone.

Eventually, there comes a knock at the door. Too sharp and cutting to be from a set of knuckles, so you knew it was his cane.

“I’m not cooking you any fucking breakfast if that’s what you’re here for.”

There’s a quiet chuckle, and you’re nearly enraged that he has the gall to laugh at such a time.

“I have… quite the opposite concern, actually.”

You remain in stubborn silence, but he opens the door with unexpected boldness, as though you wouldn’t possibly mind his intrusion. His hands are full, with one carrying a plate, his cane in the other, and a white metal box tucked under his arm.

“I regret to interrupt your rest, but your body will not heal properly without nourishment,” he announces, setting the plate on the bedside table. “Though,” he starts again with a grimace, “I cannot say with confidence that this counts as proper nourishment.”

You glance at the plate--a slice of old pizza likely warmed up in the microwave, as was all one could expect to find in Dante’s kitchen--and back to him with an unimpressed expression. What makes him think that you want his help?

“...Additionally,” he begins awkwardly as you remain silent, “I spent the morning out surveying the damage that the Qliphoth has done overnight. It is growing and spreading at an astounding rate, and the casualties must be approaching the thousands. I’m not sure how long we will be able to stay here safely.”

Still, you do not speak, but V doesn’t seem to get the hint to leave you the hell alone.

“Thanks for the update,” you say dryly and turn to your side, facing your back to him and his offering.

“...I also found this,” he says, and you feel him place something on the bed behind you. “A first aid kit. It’s... rudimentary, but you do not carry demonic blood like Dante and Nero, so your wounds will only get worse if ignored, and you must heal quickly for us to have a chance at defeating him. I still need you.”

Frowning, you turn your head back to glance at him in disgust.

“Don’t say it like that.”

He raises his eyebrows a little.

“Like… what?”

“‘I need you,’” you mock in response. “Don’t say that, it’s gross.”

He gives you a blank stare. “...Urizen must be defeated no matter what, and both you and Nero will be necessary if we hope to succeed,” he explains again, as though he’s getting tired of having to explain the situation.

You roll your eyes.

“Then just say that, don’t say it all like… God, nevermind.”

V looks to the side for a moment, seemingly at nothing in particular, then sighs and catches your eye once more.

“...Will you need help?” 

“With _what?”_ you ask, offended. What could you possibly need _his_ help with? 

It seems like it’s a hassle for him to get the words out. “Tending to your wounds. If you find some difficult to reach, I can--”

“Okay, that’s it. Out. Now.” No way in hell you’re letting this venture towards some sunscreen-on-your-back situation.

“...Very well,” V concedes, and leaves you once again in peace. The hint of relief in his tone makes you wonder why the fuck he even bothered to offer. 

God, there’s no way this situation can get any worse. 

You take your time in cleaning and bandaging the cuts you somewhat foolishly left sitting overnight, wincing quite often as you discovered just how many places you’ve received damage, and soon, you hobble out of your friend’s somehow endearingly messy room. When you emerge into the front room, V is leaning against a wall, his cane tucked under his arm and a book open in his hands. He looks up when he hears you enter, and snaps his book closed; you notice the large V carved onto its cover, and scoff to yourself. Really, there’s no way in hell that’s his real name.

“Where the fuck is Nero?” you ask pleasantly. V sighs.

“I have found no sign of him since he stormed off last night,” he replies. 

You curse, and feel around in your pockets for your phone to no avail. Of course that would be missing as well. Stiffly, you throw yourself once again into Dante’s seat and reach for his desk phone, which is luckily still in operation for the time being. After taking a moment to recall the number, you dial it and sourly glance around the room as it rings. For a moment, your attention falls on V, who merely watches you in silence, and you huff, physically tilting your body away from him.

“Yeah, whatchew want?” snaps a thick country accent, and the sound brings a bit of a weary smile to your face. “Uh, I mean… Devil May Cry, can I help you?”

“Nico,” you greet. “Is Nero with you?”

“Oh!” she says, and shouts your name in realization. “Yeah, he’s in the back somewhere broodin’ his ass off. Do you-- _Whoa!”_ You can pick up the distinct sound of screeching tires through the phone, and unintelligible yelling from nearby. “Oh, quit yer bitchin’ back there! Sorry ‘bout that, do you wanna talk to him? But I gotta warn ya, he’s in a real nasty mood.”

“No, it’s fine,” you sigh. “I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do something stupid after what happened. Where are you headed, by the way?”

“Came to pick him up, so we’re headin’ back to Fortuna,” Nico says. “I think Kyrie’s the only one who’s got any hope of snuffin’ out his fuse, plus that big ole demon tree has made a real mess out of the city. Where are you headed?”

“We’re still here,” you mutter. “At Dante’s shop.”

“What!?” Nico shouts, and your eyebrows fly up as you hear another screech. “Well, you should get outta there before you can’t no more! They’re blockin’ all the highways outta the city, it’s a real quarantine situation. Wait, did you say ‘we’?” 

You glance again at V, who has returned to his book.

“Yes,” you say bitterly. “I’m with V.”

“Don’t sound _too_ happy ‘bout that,” she jokes with a small chuckle. “But that’s good, I guess. Nero told me a bit about him, between all the yellin’ and sulkin’. Maybe you can make him spill some more dirt on that big bastard that nearly killed alla ya.”

“That’s the plan,” you say. “The only one I can think of at least. I’m going now, so please tell Nero to call Dante’s shop when he calms down, and try not to drive off a cliff on your way there.”

“I’ll do my very best,” Nico swears enthusiastically. “Now you take care, and don’t be afraid to snap that skinny boy in two if you got to!”

“Will do,” you say with a bit of a grin. “Talk to you soon.”

After hanging up the phone, you cross your arms, and take a slow breath. Noticing your attention returning to him, V once again closes his book and takes a few steps closer to you, leaning on his cane for support.

“...Nero is alright?” he asks when you do not speak.

“Obviously,” you respond bluntly. As if he didn’t just hear half of the conversation.

“That is fortunate...” There’s an awkward atmosphere, and you definitely encourage it with the way you stare him down in silence.

“We both know that this situation is extremely serious,” you begin coldly. “But what I need to know is if you knew that this would happen from the beginning.”

“It was… a possibility,” he admits. “Though if what you are truly asking is whether or not I desired this outcome, I assure you that this is far from ideal for me as well.”

“‘Far from ideal’?” you ask. “Trish, Lady, and Dante could all be dead right now. If all of us together couldn’t even make a dent in that thing, how the hell could anyone else? Is this not an apocalypse situation?”

“If Urizen is not stopped, then...death is all but certain,” V says, and the lack of emotion in his voice is really starting to piss you off. Does he even care?

“What the hell is that thing?” you ask. “And don’t give me that same bullshit again. I don’t give a fuck what its name is; where the hell did it come from? And how did you know about it?”

V is quiet for a long pause, and you strongly consider taking Nico’s advice before he speaks once again.

“I… witnessed its creation,” he begins solemnly. “I was powerless to stop it, being as weak as I am. I had no idea that it would become so powerful. That is all that it craves--it has no goals, no ambitions or thoughts other than to obtain power. The Qliphoth will give it the very power that it desires, and we cannot allow that to happen.”

“Do you really think there’s anything that we can do at this point?” you snap. “You saw very well what happened when we tried to fight that thing.”

“You and Nero must defeat him,” V says. “It is not up to me whether or not you will succeed, but all we can do is try. To give up would be to accept death.”

“Don’t you try to tell me about death,” you spit, the volume of your voice increasing again, and you point a dangerous finger at him. “I just watched three of my oldest friends die, three people you’ve barely fucking met. Don’t you dare speak to me as if I don’t understand the gravity of the situation.”

“There’s no guarantee that they are truly dead,” he corrects after a moment’s pause, and you groan in frustration, your hands flying to cover your face.

“I _know_ that, I just--” You don’t know what to say. What can you say, after what you witnessed? “God, this is so fucked.”

“You’ve done all that you can for now,” V says, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to deal with you any more than you know how to deal with him. “What’s important now is that you rest and heal as much as you are able and prepare for our next encounter with Urizen. I can keep the invading demons and Qliphoth roots away on my own until you are able to fight again.”

“...Have _you_ eaten?” you ask reluctantly, and curse your instinctive compassion. V seems a little taken aback by your asking.

“I fear that my stomach will not take to what is available,” he confesses with a hint of revulsion on his face. You sigh sharply.

“Focus on that, then,” you order. “Neither of us can survive on old pizza alone, and the city’s gotta be close to abandoned at this point, so go and find as much food as you can carry back.”

V opens his mouth but evidently thinks better of it and closes it, pulling a quaint, unnatural grin as he lifts his cane off of the floor and gestures it in a vague salute.

“Aye-aye,” he agrees, and your face contorts into a baffled expression as he turns on his heels and makes his way towards the door. Your face remains the same even after it clicks behind him, and after a minute, you rub your temples irritatedly. 

Really, couldn’t Nero have taken this poetry club creep with _him?_

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this please consider leaving a comment with what you think!!!!! thoughtful comments really motivate me to continue writing, like sometimes ill pump out a whole chapter in one day after seeing a comment that made me especially happy LOL, and i just like to know what other people think about my writing!


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